


Making Me Feel I'm Home

by phoenixprentiss



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: Comfort, F/F, Home, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23829508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixprentiss/pseuds/phoenixprentiss
Summary: Just a couple of weeks after reuniting at the Oak Room, Therese and Carol pass a slow evening with a little pondering and slow dancing. Based more on the movie than the book. I felt there weren't nearly enough shorter pieces about these two, in comparison with long form AUs and such. Hope you enjoy my first time writing for Carol/Therese :)
Relationships: Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77





	Making Me Feel I'm Home

Living with Carol was strange. Therese hadn’t exactly moved in yet, but ever since their reunion, she was beginning to spend more and more time pondering a future together, one with Carol, within this apartment that was growing increasingly familiar as days spent together began to turn into weeks.

What was strange, to Therese, were the moments in which she remembered that Carol had had an entirely different life before they knew each other. Carol had had a husband, a child. Carol had been pregnant. She tried to imagine what that was like, Carol’s body growing as the baby did, Carol having morning sickness, Carol having a baby shower, even Carol giving birth… it was so nearly unimaginable for Therese. Did Harge take care of her? Therese hoped so. He was supposed to. Talk about unimaginable, though.

And then the years where they raised Rindy, before their marriage fell apart. And now.

“What are you thinking about, dear?” Therese hardly heard Carol’s voice before she broke from her train of thought. 

“Hmm?”

“You were lost in thought. You were staring off into space, almost completely still, but your fingers were tapping on your knee. You do that when you’re thinking deeply, you know.” Carol explained, her hand moving to take Therese’s hand in hers, the one that had just been on her knee. Therese allowed her hand and her body to relax next to Carol’s on the couch.

“I suppose I haven’t noticed,” Therese said.

“So what were you thinking?”

“Hmm. About you.” Therese murmured, turning toward Carol without meeting her eyes. There was a time, just a matter of months ago, when Therese never would have spoken this out loud, even when they each knew how the other felt. She might have felt embarrassed. There was a part of her that wanted to keep her feelings and thoughts, especially about Carol, to herself. Now that things could be out in the open, at least within the walls of the apartment, Therese would remind herself that these kinds of things were okay to say out loud. Implored, even, by Carol.

“Oh really? What about me?” Carol sounded interrogative, but Therese knew it was playful.

The details, however, Therese didn’t want to share. “Nothing in particular. Just you.”

“I see,” Carol said. Turning now to meet her eyes, Therese watched a hint of smile spread across Carol’s lips.

The pair had just finished washing up after a late dinner, and had sat down together to contemplate how to pass the remainder of the evening. The spring evening was gentle, warm, and slow, and neither woman particularly felt like reading or listening to the radio.

Carol let out a brief hum, dropping Therese’s hand as she stood up. The brunette watched as Carol walked over to the record player, which stood on a shelf next to a modest selection of vinyl albums. Lifting the lid of the player, Carol turned back halfway and asked, “Any preference?”

Therese shook her head, pulling her knees up to her chest on the couch.

Carol took a moment to browse her options, and when she decided, she slid the record out of its sleeve, then setting it down before Therese could see what she had chosen. Carol set the record player, and when the sweet violin notes of Jo Stafford’s  _ Autumn in New York _ began, Therese smiled.

“Now, I know it’s not autumn, but I just love this record.” Carol said, turning back to Therese.

“It’s perfect.” Therese said.

Carol walked over to the younger woman on the couch, standing directly in front of her, where she sat curled up. Carol held out her hand to Therese, and Therese took it with no hesitation. She didn’t realize what this meant, however, until Carol tugged at her arm slightly, nudging her to stand up. Therese sighed gently and Carol took a step back, allowing Therese to unfurl her legs and get to her feet in front of the blonde.

Carol kept their hands interlocked, pulling Therese away from the couch, toward the more open area in the living room. As the melody of Jo Stafford’s voice filled the humble space of Carol’s apartment, Carol placed her other hand around Therese’s waist, before moving it to the small of her back. Therese responded by reaching her unoccupied arm up to rest on Carol’s shoulder.

“Dance with me,” Carol murmured, in that perfect, nearly husky voice of hers, the one that was still hesitant to admit her wants and desires, even as the one in the relationship who was bolder, more experienced… part of it was keeping her façade as an independent woman alive. She could let her walls down around Therese, though sometimes she still forgot that, that it was okay to let herself appear vulnerable. She trusted Therese. Isn’t that the point of a relationship? Trust?

Therese obliged. They each stepped closer into each other, maintaining only the distance required to keep dancing; gentle footsteps and rhythmic swaying, listening to the gentle lyrics and the other’s gentle breathing. This, realized Carol, was what she had wanted all along. A relationship like this. If only she had known sooner where she would find it.

For Therese, this was the ultimate warmth, right here in Carol’s arms. Carol’s touch enveloping her, reminding her of the times when her touch simply sent a shock through her body. It was still the same, but it was less surprising now. 

Therese didn’t want the moment to end, didn’t want Carol to move away from her. Carol’s hand on the small of her back held her in close and tight, giving Therese the deepest sense of comfort she had felt in a long time. 

She moved even closer to Carol, nearly as close as was physically possible, burying her face in Carol’s shoulder. She took in the aroma of Carol’s light perfume, the scent she’d grown accustomed to and associated with comfort and love. That’s what this was, wasn’t it? Love. She didn’t want to let this go.

“I love you.” Therese said, realizing it came out sort of muffled into Carol’s shoulder. Before she could move her head back and repeat it, Carol stopped, turning her head toward Therese’s and pressing a small kiss into the spot of forehead just next to her ear.

“I love you too.”

Carol said nothing more. Nothing about how this was the first time Therese said this out loud. Carol knew how she felt, of course, without Therese needing to speak it. She had watched Therese as she gradually grew more comfortable in her company, and when Therese offered to fix dinner on the evenings Carol came home from work exhausted, and the phone calls they shared on the evenings Therese spent at her own apartment, overwhelmed with her own work. This was simply Therese returning the phrase, after Carol said it first, that evening at the Oak Room.

With that, they kept dancing, relaxed in the other’s arms. Therese felt herself becoming sleepy in the comfort of Carol’s embrace, and Carol led her to bed, before returning to turn off the record player and the lights, then heading off to get ready for bed herself.

_ Strange, _ thought Therese, just before drifting off to sleep. Strange, this life with Carol. But comfortable, and perfect.

  
  
  
  



End file.
